Whispered Hope
by WinterWhirls
Summary: He wanted her to know he felt it too, that everything she felt was reciprocated 10 times stronger. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything was fine.  Elliot/Olivia. Olivia is attacked one night, Elliot is there to save her...at what cost?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here we go again, please tell me what you think of it! Enjoy.

Whispered Hope

Olivia had almost made it home.

Had any bystander been present, observing, they would have seen the way she swayed considerably when she walked, the way she stumbled in a manor that could only indicate intoxication.

They would have noticed the way her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles were of a vivid white colour, and that her face was presented in an expression of intense anger. Another clue that this woman's night had been nothing but misery.

They would have perceived the tears, the streaming torrents that spilled incessantly out from her red-rimmed eyes.

Any bystander would have asked her if there was anything they could do to help.

Any bystander would have called this poor woman a cab; would at least have made sure that she got home safely.

But there were no bystanders that night.

And Olivia didn't make it home safe.

It wasn't a big surprise to her. Not really.

It wouldn't have been a big surprise to anyone, in retrospect. Nope, no one would be shocked that the infamous Benson and Stabler had fucked it up again. Royally.

But that didn't stop it from hurting, from tearing at every fibre of her being until she was left feeling stripped, naked, in the wake of a violent storm.

She's been drunk. She knew she shouldn't have gone past three or four. Five, at the very most. She was well aware of her damned limit, for God sakes.

And she knew, she _knew _better than to get fucking smashed with the likes of Elliot Stabler around. It could only have lead to trouble. And, Christ, the trouble it had lead to.

Lowered inhibitions, heightened senses of touch and the apt capacity to think that everything she heard meant something it really, _really_ didn't, could only have lead to the death of her.

And at the time, she honestly hadn't meant that literally.

Jesus, he was an idiot. He was the biggest idiot alive and he was the one with the tiniest brain. The one with the uncontrolled anger issues, the one the was bound to end up hurting someone so very deeply, and the only one slow enough not to realize he was actually doing so until two hours afterward.

And fuck if he wasn't trying exceptionally hard not to blame the whole ordeal on Olivia.

It was she, after all, who had suggested they go out that evening. It was all her idea. And she was the one who was irresponsible enough to get drunk without a B plan.

She was the one who had started it.

But he'd played along, and after a long, gruelling case, who the hell _wouldn't_ want to get completely smashed and forget their whole existence? Who wouldn't want to empty their mind of the horrifying images of sickeningly mistreated adults and children that would otherwise haunt their dreams?

He understood where she was coming from, but that didn't stop his from being angry with her.

But then he went and fucking ruined her night, ruined her chance to unwind and let go. The problem was she'd let go of a little _too _much rope there, and Elliot felt like it was his responsibility, as her partner and as her friend, to make sure that she didn't let slip things that, if she'd been sober, she'd have shot herself before revealing.

But when she spoke, when she spun him a story so wonderful, so amazingly fantastic that he felt warm all over, he couldn't find it in himself to stop her from voicing her thoughts.

But he was still a good man, so to save himself, as well as her, the immense humiliation that would come in the morning, he got up and left. No good bye, no safe cab home. No words at all, actually. He'd just stood and stalked out the door.

She'd followed, of course, and cried and told him that she 'couldn't believe he was doing this to her!' And then she'd thrown his earlier move back in his face, stumbling away, drunkenly. To get a cab, he hoped.

And now he felt like the stupidest dumbass alive, because it only hit him now, that what she was trying to say. It was only as he was halfway home that he realized what Olivia had really been saying to him.

And then he really needed to apologize; because he also grasped that everything she had told him that night was reciprocated, only ten times stronger.

So her turned and started towards her apartment, with every intent of making peace with her.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

_You are such a screw up. _

_Why, __**why**__ did you do that? Why did you scare him away? Why the fuck did you tell him your most guarded secret, your most precious, most coveted thoughts?_

_Did you really think he'd take you? Did you really believe that he would_ _stay with you and tell you that it was okay, and that he felt the exact same fucking way about it?_

Olivia's thoughts were a miasma of unhappy sounds. She wished she could just turn her brain off.

Click. There. Done. _She _was done. With everything. She wished she could just…just not feel anything at all. No hurt, no sting of rejection, no flaring, searing burn of anger threatening to engulf her. At the same time, she strangely yearned for Elliot at her side. Maybe it was because if she had his shoulder to lean on, she wouldn't be falling and tripping and making a fool of herself in front of whoever might be watching.

Who was she kidding? There was no one about the streets tonight, at the hour. Everyone was home, drowsing peacefully in their beds, pleasant thoughts dancing in their heads. She should have been home too, in her bed, comfortable. But she couldn't see three steps in front of her. And if she concentrated too hard on _that_, then she forgot to move her feet and suddenly the sidewalk was right under her nose and _damn_, it fucking hurt.

She was so dizzy, too, and god damn it if she didn't want to be rid of that fog that prevented her from moving normally. She felt like she was in a dream, the horrible kind where you are imprisoned in your own body. She _knew _she wanted to move fast, to keep putting one foot in front of the other, she wanted to talk, also, to scream at the top of her lungs but the damned fog consumed her and stopped her intended motions. It turned her steps into stumbles; it turned her bold shouts into incoherent mumbling.

Just as she was struggling with the lock of her building, trying to fit the god damned huge key in the tiny lock that wouldn't fucking stop moving for one stupid second, she was aware of huge, _huge_ hands, vice like on her upper arms. And they weren't gentle, either. They gripped her, hard, and pulled her uncooperative body away from her door, leaving her keys to drop with a jingle onto the cold cement steps.

Olivia managed a small cry through the haze, trying to let the hands know that she'd really appreciate it if they'd let go. Because it really fucking hurt.

And then she was in the alley that held the building garbage, and the unfriendly, rough hands her on her. Something else was on her, too, big and heavy and it was starting to suffocate her with the way it was straddling her.

A man's body…

Sobriety tried to take control when the realization hit her. She started to resist, but it was weak. Her feeble attempts at freedom did zero to deter this stranger from his mission.

And as much as she was trying to tell him how much she did _not _want this, he wasn't giving her any room. He was in her face, the whole time, smiling, acting like maybe she was supposed to be enjoying it, too.

But she wasn't. She wanted Elliot, no matter how humiliated she felt. She wanted Elliot to get this man the fuck off her because she couldn't breath and every, _single _muscle in her body fucking _hurt_, especially ones that really had no business being sore at that moment. And she was helpless to do anything, because she was drunk and slow and uncoordinated. She had been such a good choice for him, suchan _easy_ target.

Oh, Christ, it hurt, and she wanted it to stop, _stop_, she wanted Elliot, she wanted Elliot…

Forty-eight minutes later he was walking up to her building, hands tightly clenched, jaw fixed. Because in less than five minutes he would be facing the anger of a woman who was better left alone when so thoroughly pissed. Because soon he would be on the butt end of Olivia Benson's wrath.

Oh, shiiiiit.

But he needed to apologize. He needed her to know that he _did _agree with her. That he felt just as much in return.

Something glinting in the streetlamp caught his eye. It was on Olivia's doorstep. Maybe a coin, a penny, and if he was lucky he might score higher. But then his heart sped up.

Olivia's keys. And the door was locked.

The door was locked, and her keys were on the ground, which indicated that she'd been here not long ago. But that she sure as hell hadn't gone in.

"Liv?" He called, thinking maybe she'd dropped her purse and gone back around the bock to get it. He strictly refused to let the panic engulf him, but worry was starting to seep through the cracks.

"Olivia?"

And he backed up, looking left and right for any sight of his troubled partner. Just as he was about to walk the other direction, a slight scraping sound came from the alley beside her building. Like the noise a wounded dog might make while trying to get away.

He jogged to the alley, bracing himself for what he might find there. His muscles tensing, his breath held.

But nothing, _nothing_, could have prepared him for the unspeakably horrifying sight that met his eyes when they scanned the area.

Suppressing the urge to be violently sick right then and there, he sprang forward and ran towards the crumpled, broken form of his crying, mutilated, helpless Olivia.

A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts, everyone!

There'll be another chapter, depending on how many review I get going, so…. you know what to do if you'd like another!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed! Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

Please, PLEASE review to let me know what you think…I'd love it if you did!

He didn't know how a person could feel so many horrible things at once and not be withering on the ground dying. He didn't understand how he was still breathing, how he was still sprinting, when devastating emotions were hitting him full force, wave after wave of panic sending his mind out of control and a suffocating lump to clog his throat.

His eyes were swimming as he dropped down beside her, landing hard and unceremoniously onto his knees. "Liv! Oh my God, Oh, no. Oh, God, Olivia!"

He pressed his fingers to the designated spot on her neck, and was relieved to feel a pulse. A weak, stuttering, barley-there beat, but a beat none the less.

"Liv? Can you hear me? Come on, Liv. Open your eyes for me!" He must have looked like a madman, trying to pull out his cell to call an ambulance, and get his arm under her head at the same time. It was with a wrench of panic that he remembered leaving his cell and gun, along with his badge, in his locker. He couldn't even remember why the fuck he'd been so stupid as to do that. The time when he needed them the most was now, and they weren't with him.

He focused his attention solely on Olivia. His battered, injured partner who was shaking, quivering with cold. She was cold because whatever hell she had been through had left her coatless. And shirtless. His strong, independent partner lay whimpering in his arms stripped down to her underwear, bottom half clad only in a pair of torn slacks. Jesus. She was _covered _in bruises and red, angry slashes, the ugly patterns dancing across her marred skin in the moonlight. Her eyes remained steadily closed, not even twitching. Something from the back of her head was leaking blood onto the hand that now held her up. And her lips were turning a sickening shade of purple.

After all the years at SVU, after everything his training had taught him in the marines, he was at a blank. A wall had situated itself between where he was, what he was doing, and where he _wanted _to be, what he _knew _he should be doing for his partner right now. The devastating blow of finding her here, bloodied and on her side, was so immense that he couldn't break through that wall. All he could do was panic helplessly and let the fear lick at his toes like lava, until it engulfed him whole and charred his heart. It was like presenting a speech to the judges and having forgotten what you were supposed to say. And the more you floundered, the more intense the panic became.

Elliot switched his brain to automatic, shrugging immediately out of his jacked and wrapping it as snugly as he could around her bare shoulders. He wanted to do more, he wanted to move Olivia, to carry her to the nearest source of help, but if any bones or ribs were broken, the end result would be more harmful than helpful.

And then, by the grace of God, Olivia's eyes fluttered open.

"Liv? Honey, can you hear me?" Elliot didn't care that his voice sounded too desperate. He didn't care that he was probably contradicting everything he'd done that night, when he walked out on her, by sounding so completely concerned. No, he couldn't give a damn.

"El…" Olivia moaned, as she turned her face towards him. "Don't…. leave…."

"I'm not, Liv. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here." And to help get his point across, he grasped her hand and held on tightly. "See? I'm right next to you."

"It…_hurts_…" She whispered, it broke him, literally shattered his heart by how frightened she sounded. And it was all the more horrid when small tears started to streak down her dirty face, spilling out of her eyes and down over her bruised chin. Elliot held her close, rocking her, telling her it would be okay.

But he knew all too well that it wouldn't. Because Olivia had been attacked, in one of the most vicious ways possible. Because he was sure that no matter how strong she was, no matter how much she fought to regain her lost control, he knew she'd also be a victim. She'd be scared, and jumpy, and probably wouldn't find comfort for weeks. He swore he'd make the next few months of hell easier for her.

"Elliot…" Olivia had stopped making sense, if that's what he could call their previous conversation. She had taken to simply calling out his name, possibly finding console in the whispers as they left her mouth; maybe seeking comfort in the responses he'd consistently given her.

And then he felt utterly horrible. After all the promises he'd made her, he was going to back out on almost every single one of them. Because neither of them had a phone, he'd have to _leave_ her in order to call and ambulance for an unavoidable hospital examination. Deciding (although it nearly killed him to do so), that it was better to leave her sooner rather than later, be started to get up.

And suddenly, despite her weakened state, Olivia's fist was around his collar in less than three seconds. Her cries were rising, coming to a sobbing, hysterical level.

"No, El! No! Don't leave! Please, stay, don't leave me!" She was drooling and crying and shaking, and her hand was turning white from the effort of keeping his near her. Elliot felt the tears rising to his own eyes as his hand rose to unwillingly pry her fingers from his collar.

"Sshhh, Olivia, calm down, you're okay." He kept whispering to her, trying desperately to reach her through her unadulterated panic. "It'll only be for a second…"

Why was he doing this? She needed him, why was he being so fucking stubborn? Why? No, no, no! She was going to be left alone and then the Big Man could come back and hurt her again, keep on hurting her, keep on tormenting her mind, holding her down as he….. It was so frighteningly dark, here.

"No!" She cried out again, but her resolve was crumbling as fatigue washed over her. Oh, God, she was tired. It crept from the back of her skull, and moved over her in a haze, numbing her senses and slurring her words until she was sure she'd be returned to the darkness…that terrifying darkness that held only horrible things such as pain, and fear, and hopelessness. When Elliot had come, when he'd cried out her name, begged for her to open her eyes, she forced herself to be pulled from the blackness's evil, relentless clutches. She had forced herself to listen to him, because she was his partner, after all, and partners listen to each other…

And the last time he'd left her, something awful had happened…the thing that had happened not quite two hours ago…the one period in her life where she just wanted it all to end, where she just wanted to _die…_

She thought she might if Elliot left her again. She'd caught words such as "ambulance" and "hospital", but the words were foreign to her. She could only try her damndest to get his attention, to call to him, to _make _him listen…so she called for him again and again, and every time he told her he'd 'be right back'…she wanted to go with him, she really did, but she just hurt _so _much, and she was devastatingly tired and spent. Her eyes were closing…the crushing silence was with her again, she was trapped, caged inside her own body…

Elliot had run to the nearest pat phone and dialled 911. He stated his address, his profession, and the seriousness of his situation. The lady with the kind voice had reassured him than an ambulance was on the way.

And he's run like hell to get back to Olivia.

As soon as he saw her, his heart crumpled anew. She was lying on her side, curled up, the same position he had left her in. The tears were not stopping, and neither were her whimpers, her helplessness obvious. He would kill, just to know what she was thinking, to know what he could do to help…

"Olivia, I'm here, I'm back, you're safe now…" In his concern-blinded attempt to bring her peace, Elliot had unthinkingly laid his hands on her when she wasn't expecting it. She convulsed violently, and let loose the most piercing, horrific scream he'd ever hear. And Elliot knew that that sound would haunt him until the day he died. He'd hear it when he was lying in bed at night, he'd hear it every time he spoke with a victim. Hell, he wondered if there'd ever be a time when he _wasn't_ hauntedby the sound of it ringing in his ears.

"Liv, Liv, open your eyes!" She shook her, trying desperately to get her to recognize him. It drove Elliot to the point of madness that she was scared of him, that she recoiled urgently whenever he touched her. But he reminded himself that she didn't know it was him. She was stuck, trapped, in that hell which she had suffered through at the hands of God knows whom.

Finally, and after several minutes of fighting with her, trying to get her to respond to _him_, Elliot managed to convince her to pry her eyelids apart. As soon as she saw him, she ceased her defensive movements on him. In fact, she stooped to the exact opposite.

Olivia flung herself violently into his arms, obviously ignoring any and all physical complaints and she clung to him desperately. All Elliot could do was wait, on edge at every second, whispering words of console and linger with her until the bus arrived.

Maybe she was hurting him, maybe she was hurting _her_, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything apart from overwhelming relief at the thought of Elliot's return. He was here, now, and there was no way in hell she was ever letting go of him again. Ever.

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get those damn tears to stop. They irritated her face, their salinity scratching her and causing her face to burn. She buried her face into Elliot's shoulder in order to relinquish the itching. She was also seeking comfort, though.

Distantly, she heard sirens. She was only now hoping they were for her, because her body ached so severely that she knew if she stayed here any longer, she wouldn't stand a chance at winning this battle.

She hurt. Everywhere. Broken ribs were inevitable, she knew, by the searing pain she felt whenever she moved a muscle. Maybe she shoulder was sprained, too.

And she hurt in other places, too. Ones she didn't want to think about. Ever. She wanted to shut her mind against it.

And suddenly she was being lifted, placed on a cold, hard board that hurt far more than the ragged terrain of the concrete did. Or maybe it was just the part about being moved that hurt so much. But most of that was erased from her mind as soon as she felt Elliot slipping from her grasp.

No. Not again. Never again.

There was too much noise…the continuous wailing, the voices, shouts, arguments, panicked voices…she wanted it all to shut up. Because her head really fucking hurt. And because with all this noise, she couldn't find out where Elliot was.

She tried calling to him. Only there was something unwelcome and sharp being shoved down her throat, and it prevented any yell she had planned on from coming out. Damn it.

She was flailing. Arms, legs, pretty much anything that wasn't strapped down. The paramedics were all over her, trying to sedate her, get a breathing tube down her throat, and reassure her all at once. But Olivia was his partner of ten years. He could read her like a book. She wanted _him_. By her side. With her.

He ran forwards, ignoring an elderly man who warned him to stand back. He called her name, over and over, reassuring her of his presence. He nodded earnestly when another paramedic asked him if he was riding along. He jumped in the back of the ambulance and settled on the cold bench next to her stretcher, gazing down anxiously at her pale, bruised face. _Hold on, Liv. Please, please, be strong._

Time was so precious. He was never again going to try and rush it. Because Olivia's breaths were numbered. And as he held her hand, thumb running delicately over her palm, he found himself praying. He prayed for time to slow down. He wanted just one more day, just one for hour of carefree bliss with his beautiful Olivia. One more afternoon in the precinct, where all they did was stare at each other absently, taking in each other's features.

One more chance to tell her that damn it, he loved her too.

A/N: Please leave a review...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, but I had to figure out where I was taking this. Now I know, so updates should be quicker. I've tried (and probably failed) to tone down the angst and level out the dark. Enjoy, and I'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts!

BEFORE

She was sitting at the table, pupils dark and orb-like, her cheeks holding a cherry flush. Nursing her fourth bottle of beer for the evening, she was becoming tipsy. Elliot held back a chuckle. Olivia thought she could hold her alcohol, but in reality she was no better than a first-timer. She was long gone.

She'd started out sitting across from him in the private booth, (or as private as the noisy place would allow), hands folded tightly in her lap, her lips in a thin line. Elliot knew her mind was still worrying over a case they'd recently handled, and his duty tonight was to ensure that she allowed herself to relax.

So, as it was, after a beer and a half, Olivia excused herself to the bathroom. Elliot busied himself in her absence by retrieving their next round. When she returned, she seated herself beside him, abandoning her previous seat where her coat and scarf presently rested.

And as it usually did, time wore on. And as they usually did on nights like that, the drinks kept coming until the pain went on its way. Before Elliot had recognized the warning signs, Olivia was well on her way to being seriously smashed. He decided not to drink anymore, his respective duty to get her home safely overcoming any other pressing desires he might have had. Of course, his pressing desires took a much different, much more intense path the second her she slung her arm over his shoulder and pressed herself into his side. He doubted his partner had any idea of what she was doing.

Because they didn't _do_ this. Sure, they got shit-faced after hard cases all the time together, but intimate physical contact was well out of their comfort zone. And anything out of the comfort zone was strictly banned.

"Elliot!" her head was tipped towards his, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It would have been a major turn on had she not almost busted his eardrum with the way she yelled his name. "Elliot, y'know what?"

He shifted in the booth, turning to face her. "Know what, Liv?"

"You're my best friend."

He smiled a genuine grin in her direction. "Would you believe that you're my best friend?"

She laughed, probably for a few seconds longer than she should have. "Yeah, I'd believe it." She turned serious once she got a handle on herself. "Thanks for this, El." She gestured around them to the five or so empty beers surrounding them. "I really needed a night out."

Some part of his mind was humoured at the notion that she though getting piss drunk and having the typical "hangover from hell" the next morning was somehow something she needed. But the other part of his brain, the one he usually ended up listening to, was just happy as a clam that she was having said "fun" and that she was presently wrapped like a pretzel around him.

"You wanna get me another drink?" She slurred, her face too close to his and the stench of alcohol from her breath wafting into his nostrils. "I'd go, but, El," She paused to laugh, "The room won't quit moving."

"Well, Liv, if the room is moving then maybe you'd better take it easy on the drinks," He suggested this while trying to hold back a smile as she attempted to untangle herself from him.

"I know how to take care of myself, Elliot." He had always known Olivia to be moody when she was drunk. It was like walking on eggshells. One wrong thing said and all of a sudden you found yourself ditched and with the tab.

"No one's saying you can't, Liv, I just think it's late and time to call it a night."

She huffed her frustration as she slumped against the back of the booth. Elliot thought it funny that she still resorted to pouting when things didn't go her way. But seeing that expression on his partner's was inexplicably cute. He tried not to smile.

"Alrighty, then, let's get going." Elliot tried to steady himself against the back of the booth as he put his arm around her back, under her shoulders, and helped her stand up. Olivia looked startled like she hadn't been aware that she was being moved. Wrong move on his part, he really shouldn't have let her have so much…

Collecting her things and getting her to agree to leaving was a hassle, but fifteen minutes later they were standing on the sidewalk outside the bar. Well, Elliot was standing; Olivia was doing some combination of leaning most of her weight on Elliot and trying not to fall asleep.

"Liv," Elliot shook her gently, trying to rouse her. "C'mon, Liv, you can't sleep right here."

"El," She slurred the words, tilting her face upwards. Elliot felt it go straight to his groin when she pressed her warm lips to the underside of his neck. "You should come home with me."

He was the literary definition of " stunned into silence".

Olivia made a small sound in the back of her throat and wrapped her arms around him. "C'mon, El, c'mon." Her face was buried in the crook of his neck.

"No, Liv, I-"

"Sshhh, no talking. It's too loud."

He found the inner strength to wrap his hands firmly around her biceps and put her at a safe distance away from him. "Olivia." He spoke loudly and clearly, hoping to strike some sense in her.

"What?"

"Go home. Go to bed."

"_Take_ me to bed."

"Liv," he grated, ducking his head and sighing. "Go home."

"Don't you want me, El?" She pushed herself against him again. "Cause I sure as hell want _you_…"

This time, Elliot was forced to take a step backwards, putting physical distance between them, so that he wouldn't do something she'd regret in the morning.

"Elliot," Her voice was small and relatively hurt by his rejection, "Please. Don't think about it…_I love you_…"

And Elliot Stabler, her partner, her ally, the one who felt everything she felt except maybe ten times stronger, had the audacity to stare at her with wide eyes for four seconds, before turning on his heels and booking it the hell out of there.

AFTER

He'd been in the waiting room for three hours. The worst, most inexplicably torturous three hours of his entire existence. The understanding nurse at the front desk was becoming less and less understanding, because Elliot had been badgering her for information incessantly for the past seventy minutes. All he knew was that she was out of surgery. No diagnosis, no way to know whether or not she was stable…whether or not she was coherent…whether or not she'd even woken up.

As he sat there, in the sterile, hard, ass-bruising hospital chair, head heavy in hands, Elliot Stabler blamed himself.

He blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong in her life. And he hated himself with a vengeance so violent that his hands were shaking. It was his fault that she didn't have a significant other; he couldn't resist the urge to be a jealous bastard. It was his fault that she was so mentally unstable; he had thought it his duty to verbally contradict every move she made. And it was his fault that she was in here; he'd suggested their night out, and he was too chicken-shit to make sure she got home safe. _Way to show self-control, Stabler_, he thought. _Nothing had to happen. All you had to do was bring her home_.

He would have poured his frustration into tears, but he feared severe dehydration from the amount he'd already exuded in the ambulance and in the previous two hours. He'd cried every last tear he had to give.

He wished he owned a time machine. It was childlike, he knew, but he carried in him a burning desire to use one. If he had a time machine, he could snap back a few years. He'd snap back to the year that things had begun to fall to shit, and he'd do everything over. He'd do it all differently. He'd hold her hand when she forgot her gloves in the winter, he'd compromise with her when they disagreed about a case. He's enquired about her personal life and in turn open himself up to her. No lies, no mixed or blurry feelings, and most of all, no fear.

Because that's what drove them apart, really. The fear of acknowledging the spark that existed between them. The utter panic of acting upon that spark. The fright of stepping outside of what was usual, allowed, and into each other's arms.

Yeah, he'd do it all over again because you know what? Tomorrow is never, ever promised.

And Elliot was living the proof.

FORTY-EIGHT MINUTES LATER

"Mr. Stabler?" A doctor who looked entirely too young appeared in the entryway.

Elliot jumped to his feet, and quickly paced towards the man. "That's me."

"Ms. Benson is presently stable. She's in room 342 if you'd like to see her."

Elliot sank into a near by chair out of sheer relief. He never thought he could feel so many constricted feelings at once. He was silent for several long seconds.

"Sir?" The doctor waved a hand in front of Elliot's face.

"Uh…yeah. Yeah. I need to see her. Oh, God, I need to see her."

The doctor nodded briefly. "Alright. Come with me, I'll explain the situation on the way down."

And together Elliot and the nameless doctor made their way towards the elevators.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm sorry for the wait; I have been kind of stressed out as of late. Hopefully you still remember what this story is about. Anyways, I really appreciate everyone's reviews, reading them is what I look forward to the most these days. Thanks!

ELLIOT.

"…Epidural Hematoma which occurs in the skull, it is caused by trauma, most likely when Ms. Benson's head hit the concrete. Now, sir, this is a very dangerous type of injury because the bleeding is from a high-pressure place, and deadly increases in pressure can happen quickly. Ms. Benson will have a loss of consciousness, then should awaken, but most likely only to have her condition deteriorate in ways such as vomiting and restlessness and then she may loose conciousness again. She's got three fractured ribs, and some bruising…"

The doctor's voice was like a distant echo in his mind the minute he saw her. She was just lying there…looking so…broken. He blinked twice because he couldn't have been seeing clearly. Olivia Benson painted many a picture, but this was definitley not one of them. Olivia Benson portrayed the image of confidence, of awareness, and she walked with an intimidating swagger when trying to impress. Olivia Benson was not the one to step down and let others take the lead. Olivia Benson was independent, she was strong.

And yet there she was.

Her eyes were swollen and closed, and the gentle flutter indicating life was barely present. Her hair was flat against the pillows behind her head, and the delicate way that it framed her head only accentuated the pale, chalkiness of her face. Her chest rose and fell with small little bursts of air.

Elliot hated machines. He'd had his fair share of experiences with them, and seeing as none of the times he'd been hooked to one had been pleasant, he'd grown to dislike them. Seeing his partner all wired and tubed up was worse than anything. There waw something in the raw helplessness of it all that pierced him right through the heart. There was something about the way Olivia looked like she was on the brink of death itself that made something behind his eyes prickle.

"And the…" Elliot had to clear his throat. "And the…the rape kit?" The familiar words sounded so forgien on his tongue. He spoke the words regularily on the job, but when he spoke them with Olivia on his mind, it just seemed so umbelievably wrong.

"We haven't done one yet."

Ice water was splashed down his back. They hadn't done it? What the hell was he talking about? "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ms. Benson lost conciousness in the ambulance on the way here. She hasn't regaind awarness and therefore can't give the hospital permission to begin the exam."

Elliot exhaled harshly, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Well, when will she be awake?"

"One can only guess. I'd say…maybe three or four hours. Sorry, Detective."

Elliot felt numb as the young doctor turned his back and walked through a set of double glass doors at the end of the hallway. In three hours, he was going to face the hardest case he'd ever worked.

OLIVIA.

It was dark, and so cold, in the place she currently resided. She didn't know where she was, though, and that scared her. She didn't know the time, or the date, or what was happening. It was a total lack of control.

Whenever she tried to walk, she ended up falling, and her stomach dropped with her as she plunged into the black abyss that was the sight before her. It was frustrating, because everything happened ten times slower than her brain was accustomed to. She decided it was like floating in outer space, a vast expanse of darkness, crushing in its immensity and yet curiously reassuring at the same time, only without the comforts of gravity to keep her floating. Because every time she moved, she fell.

It was so strange, because she couldn't see anything, and yet she could see _everything_. It was like falling through a looking glass and everything that had once been confusing to her was re-born, crystal clear.

Too clear.

A mirror appeared in front of her, and images were painted on the shiny surface like they would if she was watching television. They flickered at first, but the closer she watched them, the more defined they became. It was a building. The side of a building. And there was something dark in the foreground but a shadow was covering it, obscuring it, rendering it unidentifiable. The figure lunged, and she felt the pain as acutely as she saw it. Suddenly, she was watching the stars as they loomed above her. But cold roughness was below her back.

Massive hands reached for her hips and she didn't like it, she didn't like it. She felt, she felt so much, but she didn't _want_ to feel. It was too much. Too much, too much, too much. She feared she might combust if she were asked to take anything else in.

The shadow was heavy, it weighted down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs and she felt searing intensity in her torso as sickening cracks could be heard.

She wanted to yell, she wanted to make some kind of noise, but her mouth was sealed shut…she wanted to kick, her instinct was to punch, but her lunges were slow and sloppy, her limbs too heavy to exercise. She was too tired to try and lift them, she was too tired, so tired…But she couldn't give up…no…no… "No…no…"

ELLIOT.

"No…no…" Olivia's mumbling caught his attention, and he lifted his heavy head from his hands.

"Liv?" He cautiously approached the bed.

She was silent, but she constantly twitched, as if trying to ward off some kind of evil.

"Olivia?" He tried again, and bent over the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his. "Wake up,"

Olivia scrunched up her nose and her eyelids fluttered.

"Yeah, good girl, Liv. Wake up. There you go," He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She surprised him when she whimpered and yanked her hand out of his grasp. She kept fussing, tossing her head from side to side and mumbling a string of incoherent words. Elliot placed a hand on her forehead. "Sshhh, it's okay, you're okay."

Olivia's eyes opened fully, but she slammed them shut again at the onslaught of the brightly lit room. "Elliot?" Her words were slurred.

"Yeah. Hey, it's just me."

"Elliot, who…where…"

"Hush, Liv. It's all right. Don't worry." He felt horrible for lying, especially to her, especially now. "Just relax."

"Elliot, it's awful…it's so awful…"

"I know, I know."

And she fell asleep again.

TWO HOURS LATER.

**ELLIOT.**

He needed a break. Well, his body needed a break. Not that he'd give in to any sense of relief. The coffee machine would have to wait. Olivia had been awake for twenty-three minutes in counting. And she refused point blank to talk to anyone. Not the doctor, not the nurse, not the hospital physiatrist. Not even him. She'd only said that she wanted to be left alone, and through the window of her room, Elliot could see that she hadn't moved. She was just staring blankly at the wall. As if she were in a trance.

And Elliot had had just about enough. He couldn't begin to understand what she'd been through, but he wanted to catch the son of a bitch so much that his hands were actually trembling. They shook as he turned the handle on her door.

"Hey, Olivia."

Silence.

"You holding up okay?"

Silence.

He cleared his throat once. "Um. Need me to get the doctor?"

Silence.

"Okay, so I'll be right back. I'm just going to go get Dr. Richardson."

"Don't."

It wasn't much, but it was the first word she'd uttered since demanding solidarity.

He walked over to her bed, careful not to startle her. He made sure that his hands were where she could see them. He could never be too careful. And careful he had to be, because Olivia was unreadable right now. Being her partner of ten years, Elliot had developed a certain affinity when it came to Olivia. He always had a feel for what she was thinking, how she was about to react, what her next move was. It was like their minds were wired. Interconnected on a level that others could only imagine.

And now? Blank. Nothing. He had absolutely no clue as to what was running through her mind. He only knew her stony silent façade.

"Why are you here, El?" She asked, and it was strange because her voice was soft and girly and she cocked her head to the side. It was totally not the Olivia Benson he knew. And loved.

"Liv…you know why I'm here."

She narrowed her eyes. She was silent for a few seconds, but then realization dawned in her eyes, and then: "I'm not doing it."

He raised his hands to cover his eyes. "Olivia, don't start this."

"It's my choice, Elliot. Mine."

"Please, Olivia, please. Let me catch this guy."

"There's no point. What's done is done…I…I…I can't take it…it's too much…"

Her knees came up and she placed her arms around them, burying her face in the cradle they formed. "Don't look at me."

Well. Okay. That was weird.

"What?"

"I don't want you to see me like this, El."

And then he realized. Olivia didn't want to be dependant. She didn't want anything to change just because someone took her control. She didn't want him to think she was weak. She was terrified, and wasn't going to let him help without a fight.

"Go away. Please."

"Liv, I'm not judging you."

Silence.

"Olivia, please, take the exam."

Silence.

"Liv…"

Silence.

Oh, boy. This was indeed going to be very, very hard.

A/N: Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Next part, you guys. Hope you enjoy. These couple of chapters are getting harder and harder to write, that's why I haven't updated in a while. Well, all I can say is that I hope it meets your expectations. Please leave a review because I'm insecure. Hehe.

"Liv, Please, you need to do this."

"Elliot, go away."

"Olivia. Don't you start this."

"Leave."

"Liv, please. You know. You _know_."

"Elliot..."

He walked forward, laying a hand on her shoulder gently that she immediately moved away from. He squeezed reassuringly. "Be strong, Olivia."

Silence.

"I know you can make it."

Silence.

"If you won't do it for yourself, please, just do it for me. Do it for me, Liv."

Silence.

"Olivia?" He whispered, carefully resting his forehead on hers. "Let me catch him. Let me put him away."

Silence.

And he waited.

And waited.

And finally, she spoke. "I want you to go now."

He almost screamed his frustration.

Elliot couldn't stand it anymore. When things with Olivia got hard, it was always his instinct to get angry and walk through the door. But now he couldn't get angry. He wouldn't let himself be the one that closed the path this time. He was having a really hard time not being mad at her. Because it had happened to her. After years of fear, of dread, and of nightmares running through his mind, it had finally happened and he wasn't at all ready for it. Maybe he was just mad at himself.

Elliot had known Olivia to be stubborn. Hell, they were both the most obstinate cops in the precinct, and while it had come to prove itself useful during cases, their inflexibility took a wrong turn in their personal lives. And hell if he was living the proof.

He'd basically begged her to do the kit. There was nothing Elliot Stabler wanted more in the whole world than to catch the rat bastard that had dared lay a hand on his partner. God only knew, if he ever got his hands around that Son of a Bitch's throat...

And Olivia was absolutely not cooperating with his plan. Elliot couldn't understand her objection to take the kit. Olivia knew how important it was, and yet she refused point-blank to be examined. He'd witnessed her say it, millions of times over, how much better the victim would feel once they found closure. The quickest way to find closure was through the results of the kit, Elliot knew. His only problem was convincing a very distressed Olivia.

Every time he breeched the subject, Olivia hid. Literally. She hugged the covers to her face and asked him, ordered, rather, to leave.

The first couple of times she'd decided to play this game, Elliot had objected. He was her partner, and he wasn't leaving her alone. He couldn't. He'd seen her, he knew she was safe and God help him if he was ever going to let her out of his sight again. He was all but consumed with a primal urge to always protect her, never let anyone or anything bring her harm ever again. He'd made up his mind, a subconscious decision, to always be the one she leant on for support, always be the anchor she turned to in her times of need. So be damned with her little games. She couldn't avoid him because he was going to bring her the closure she needed just as much as he did. Olivia was going to take that rape kit, no matter what he had to do to convince her. Because if now, today, she was denying the opportunity to catch her violator, he knew for sure that in the future she'd regret her choice until the day she died.

His objection to her orders the first couple time, though, earned him deaf ears from her incessant screaming and a bloody nose from when he'd tried to approach her to calm her down. All he wanted to do was help her, but she'd been sedated seven times already. And, she was his partner and she had always been strong and this was such a change to him. Such a drastic, devastating change that he had no idea how to deal with her. Sure, he knew his way with the victims. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't picture Olivia as any of them. She was Olivia, his partner, his best friend...the woman he loved. And seeing her like this had the effect on his mind as a cloth would have on a draw/erase board. His knowledge was stripped; he was laid bare for her, ready to absorb her pain.

But she hadn't wanted his help. Olivia was constantly giving him the silent treatment and forever avoiding his gaze, his questions. That worried him because he knew that it was only a matter of time before the catalyst hit and she would break.

And when she broke, it was the most violent of storms.

And when it had happened, he'd been out for coffee. Fucking coffee.

The beverages in the hospital were shit. Water, spicy orange juice, or stale coffee. He choose coffee though, because it was familiar and something he knew and God, he really needed some grounding right then.

He'd just grimaced at the first swallow when a face he had come to know well moved into his line of sight. It was Olivia's Call nurse, Samantha. Nice lady, kind, he'd though, before the panic had set in. The expression the elderly woman wore on her face was enough to get his heart pounding at twice the healthy rate. He took deep breaths, knowing that going into cardiac arrest wouldn't help anyone.

"Samantha, what's up?" He asked, warily.

Sam glanced around nervously, as if she was afraid of being overheard.

"Olivia's barricaded herself in her bathroom. There's nothing in there that can cause serious harm to her, but she's been in there for hours and no one can get her to come out."

His heart stopped. Nothing to cause serious bodily harm. There was a shower. A mother fucking shower.

He needed to get her out of there.

"Has she said anything?" He asked, desperately as he and Sam were walking briskly back to Olivia hospital room.

"Not much. Just a jumble of random words, nothing we can use." Sam glanced at him quickly, possibly assessing his level of weariness. Or how long it would take for him to punch something. "She's been crying, though. And she asked for you, about twenty minutes ago."

Twenty minutes ago? "What? Twenty minutes ago? Why the hell am I just hearing about it now!"

"Calm down, Mr. Stabler, our ER is overflowing and we couldn't find you. She's going to be fine, okay?"

Elliot didn't answer. His steady gaze was focused on the door that was now coming into view. The door to Olivia's room. His footsteps fell in a higher frequency as he neared, he was desperate to go to her. Desperate _for_ her. All he wanted to do was hold her, if she'd let him.

As he charged through her door, he saw that two other nurses were standing in front of a securely locked white door, indeed Olivia's bathroom door. In a quick gesture, he indicated for them to leave. He didn't want anyone else being privy to this show, because he knew that later on, when she was better, Olivia would be horribly embarrassed about this. The nurses promptly left, and Sam told him she'd be just down the hall if he needed her. Elliot nodded roughly, but he was very grateful to the nurse.

He knocked softly on the door. "Olivia? What's going on, huh?"

He heard a sniffle.

"Liv? Can you talk to me?" He tried not to think about the fact that he was using the same voice he used on the victims. With a jolt, he realized that she _was_ a victim. He tried not to think about that, either.

"Elliot..."

"Yeah, Liv, I'm right here." He smiled, glad that she was at least responsive to him.

"It's all my fault, El." Her voice was tiny, hoarse, as if she had been constantly crying.

"No. No, Olivia. Absolutely not, honey."

"Oh God."

"Ssshh, Liv, just let me in, okay?"

"Oh my God..." She was sobbing openly now. "Oh my...Oh God..."

"Okay, it's okay, open the door," He spoke in the most soothing voice he could muster despite his panic.

She was silent again, besides her crying.

"Liv?"

Silence.

He sighed. "Please open the door, sweetie."

A small sob.

And then, Elliot thought he might die from the ice cold feeling that sliced through his veins.

"I'm so sorry, El."

The shower started.

Elliot sprung into action, jiggling the handle back and forth as fast and as hard as he could. He used his shoulder to push heavily against the door, trying with all the force he could summon to throw the door off its hinges.

"Liv! _Olivia_! Please!"

He received no answer, and he didn't really expect to, but that didn't deter him. He grunted with the effort he was exuding into pounding the door down.

"No! No, Olivia, No!"

All he could hear was his own breathing, heavy, hard, and the constant thrumming of the water droplets hitting the shower stall, hitting...skin. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was in. She was in. She'd gotten into the God damned shower. She was erasing all evidence of her attack. No, no, no! God fucking damnit, Olivia!

He backed away from the door, and then charged at it, using every ounce of strength he owned. In a last attempt, a last, very powerful attempt, Elliot managed to break down the door.

The force of his actions propelled him several feet into the small room, and he hit the opposite wall harshly before regaining his footing. Though she'd only started the water minutes before, the small room had already become steamy. Elliot nearly tripped as he launched himself at the shower stall. Looking down, he saw Olivia's hospital gown bunched around his feet. He kicked it aside, needing to get to as quickly as possible. Needing to hold her, help her, save any evidence possible.

He tore back the curtain and she fell heavily into his arms. She was crying. Her salt tears blending with the water from the shower, cascading down her face. Elliot was soaked, but that was the last thing on his mind.

"Liv!" He cried out, as he caught her trembling body and sank to his knees with her. He wrapped his arms securely around her sobbing form and held her tightly as they sat in the bottom of the tiny tub.

He felt tears spring to his eyes as he knew his partner had just given up hope.

He buried his face in her wet hair.

She cried into his neck, holding onto him so tightly it almost hurt.

Elliot ran his fingers soothingly up and down her back, again and again.

"Why, baby..." He pressed his eyes tightly shut, trying to force back his tears. "...Why?"

A/N: Please, please review, if you are so inclined.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Wow you guys! Thanks for your amazing support! Here's the next part, hope you enjoy…

A tricky thing, time was. It seemed that as soon as you wished for it to slow and prolong the moment, it sped up. And the moment you yearned for it to accelerate, it immediately slowed.

As Elliot sat, soaked to his skin, in the bottom of the hard, sterile tub, all he could think about was how much he wanted time to hasten for him. As he held Olivia tightly around the waist, his mind was filled with echoes of how much easier it would all be if they could fast-forward into the future. Of how desperately he wanted to be placed several years from now, where he and Olivia could be living contentedly in a townhouse just outside the city. He didn't want to fast-forward time for him, so much as for her. The thoughts that formulated in his mind were those of sincere understanding, compassion, and he knew how very hard this was going to be for her. He knew how much she'd hate herself for what had happened. Because it's Olivia, he knew, and she's always going to think it's her fault. He understood the pain she'd surly be in. Was in, at the moment.

He bent his head forward, and pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead. Her wracking sobs had moderated to sharp, irregular intakes of breath, as she fought for control over her tears. Olivia had never been a crier. But Elliot knew that that didn't diminish the amount of pain she was in.

"Ssshhh, Liv, it's okay." He rocked slowly back and forth, back and forth, trying to find a steady rhythm, intending to help her find something solid to regulate herself to. Olivia's face was pressed as far as it could in the crook of his neck, and despite the cold droplets of water saturating his skin, he could feel her salty tears as they hit him. She was trembling, whether from her crying or the cold, he didn't know. He deftly reached out of the small tub and groped around in the semi-darkness for a towel. His hand clenched around something scratchy, the exact feeling he'd expect from a cheap hospital serviette.

He dragged it back into the tub and let go of Olivia with his other hand in order to drape the rather ugly taupe towel around her wet body. But as soon as she lost the contact, her fingernails dug aggressively into his skin and she held onto his shoulders tightly. Her breaths accelerated, and she made small whimpering sounds against the skin of his neck.

"No, El! No, don't go, please don't leave me again." Her voice was desperate, pained.

Again? Hell, she was the one that was ordering him to leave! He wasn't sure what kind of thoughts her panicked mind was conjuring up, but he wasn't going to dwell on it just then. The first step was getting her calmed down, and warmed up.

"Okay. Olivia? It's okay, honey. It's alright. Ssshhh."

She was past shaking now, her whole form was trembling, and her nails were clawing painfully at his shoulders as she clung to him. Elliot quickly slung the towel over her bruised shoulders, covering her back, and then wrapped his arms protectively around her again.

"You're leaving…you're leaving…"

And now he was getting worried. "Liv, no. I'm right here. I'm staying. I'm here."

"Uunnnhhh…"

"Olivia, it's okay. Calm down, honey. Ssshhh."

"El…Elliot…"

"Yeah, I'm right beside you. I'm not going anywhere."

"I just…I'm…it's just that…" He could barley make out what she was saying, because renewed tremors shook her voice and her face was pressed into his neck still.

"What is it?"

"Please…please…I just wanted to…"

"It's okay. You can tell me, Olivia." He nuzzled his nose comfortingly against her cheek.

"I just wanted…a shower." She hiccupped and dissolved into sobs again.

"I know, I know, Liv." He ran his hand soothingly up and down her back, being careful of the sore places he could see existed. Rough patches of red, irritated skin.

He continued holding Olivia close to him for what he knew was a considerable length of time. He wondered if the nurses had come looking. They had probably checked in, but he knew Samantha was smart enough not to rush Olivia, or interrupt him in his mission of helping her.

Elliot was devastated that she'd washed away the evidence. He couldn't fathom any reason as to why she would do that. He knew that Olivia understood how important DNA evidence was to a case, and how much of that evidence lies on the victim. Victim. Victim. Oh, God. Oh, Liv.

He could, however, value her need for a shower. He could comprehend the reasons that would push her to step under the betraying flow of water, he could appreciate her powerful urge to cleans herself, purify herself of all the evil that had touched her body. His regret, on the other hand, lay in the soul reason that he _knew _she would wish she had waited, later. Olivia had acted so quickly, impatiently, even, and washed away the key to her rapist when her mind was confused, when she wasn't in any state to be making such big decisions. She was confused, her mind was a whirlwind of scared emotions.

He knew that next week, when she was possibly more stable on her feet, in her own mind, she'd hate herself with every fibre of her being for having rushed ahead and acted so irrationally.

In the crook of his neck, Olivia sniffled. "Elliot…my head…"

"Does it hurt?"

"Unnnhhh…yeah."

He could feel her beginning to panic again, in the way her breathing sped up, in the way her arms started to tremble again.

"Okay. I'll get the nurse, then. Hang in there, Livia."

"No!" she exclaimed, and then softer, "No, El. Please…I don't want to move."

"Olivia, honey, you have to get checked out. You have a concussion…let the doctor look at it." He whispered soothingly in her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

"No…" Her voice had turned into a kind of whiny whimper.

"Com on, Liv, let's get up. Come on, honey." He didn't want to push, but if it was serious, she needed to be seen by a doctor…sooner rather than later.

"Please…I don't want anyone to see me…please, El"

This brought him up short. Was the reason she'd pushed him away before because she was embarrassed about what had happened to her? Was she…ashamed? Scared that he would judge her? Elliot kind of wanted to yell at her, tell her clearly that no matter what, he'd always, _always _love her and that he'd never think badly of her. Hell, it was all his fault that this had happened in the fist place. What kind of partner ditches her in the middle of the street when she's so shit-faced she can't walk straight and basically tells her to find her own way home? He had been, by far, more sober than she had, and therefore it was his responsibility to make sure she arrived home safely. He'd expect no less in return. She'd trusted him with her well being, she'd let down her guard in front of him and she'd put it all on the table…because she loved him.

And because he was a selfish bastard, he'd just left her there.

Oh, Liv. I'm so, so sorry. I wish I could take it all away, honey.

"Please…I'm okay…it doesn't hurt that much…"

He knew Olivia would try to hide everything, so he tried a different approach.

"Okay. No doctors, then. But you're cold, let's get you back to bed."

"No…I don't want to move."

"Olivia, please, let's go get warm."

"No…don't leave…"

Again, he was abruptly taken aback by her sudden change in subject. She probably wasn't all there, anyway.

"I won't, Liv. I just want to take care of you."

Silence.

"Olivia?"

Silence.

An intense fear gripped him, a fear that this whole thing had taken them several steps backwards…

"Please, Olivia."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "O…kay."

Elliot inhaled several times, relief sending warm waves through his veins. He placed his hands securely under her arms, and gently lifted her to her feet. She'd been standing for about five seconds when her knees wobbled dangerously and she toppled over, into his chest. He grabbed the wall with one hand to steady himself.

"Honey? Can you walk?"

"N-n-n…"

Don't make her say it.

"Okay. You know what? That's fine. That's okay, Olivia. I've got you."

She took several shaky breaths, trying to regulate herself. Her arms stayed locked around him, she had never let go of his shoulders. Elliot gripped her under her arms with one arm, and bent down slightly to wrap his other around under her knees. Her arms tightened around his neck as he lifted her off the tiled floor. She wasn't heavy at all, but the fact that she was so vulnerable, so…affected, so _naked _in his arms was a little overwhelming for him.

"Okay?" He asked gently, making sure she was okay with the contact. He knew victims to be unpredictable and the last thing he wanted was for her to be uncomfortable.

"Yes." Her voice was a barley-there whisper, spoken in the crook of his neck where her face rested.

Elliot walked steadily into the adjacent room, her hospital room, and carefully deposited her on the bed. He made to pull away, but she clung to him like a little girl, he eyes shut tight.

"Liv…I need to get you a gown."

"Stay…stay…you left before…"

Although he was confused, he didn't want to argue with her. Although he was desperate to clear his case with her, he didn't want to upset her any more.

"I'll be right back. I will, I promise. I'm getting you some clothes."

It was then that he saw the extra blanket and folded up light pink hospital gown sitting on the end of her narrow bed. They were fresh and neatly ironed, and Elliot didn't think he could love Samantha more. He didn't even need to completely let her go in order to reach them, and although she resisted a little when he tried to pull the gown over her bare body (because he had to let her go), the end result was the same. Olivia was snugly in her bed, in fresh clothes…clean. But the compromise was tough. The evidence was gone. He realized he'd have to talk to her about it tomorrow; he'd need to try to understand what she was going through in order to go through it _with _her. He'd also need to take her statement. And call Cragen. God, this was the worst to-do list he'd ever, ever had.

Olivia rested restlessly on her bed, her hand grasping his almost painfully, her eyes shut tight. Elliot knew that she was hurting, and that the doctor needed to be notified. He was torn, though, between honouring her words and getting her checked out. He needed her to trust him…but her wanted to make sure she was okay.

He was about to press the call button for the nurse, when her hand squeezed his. "El?" She asked, her eyes still shut.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Do you remember…I mean…before…"

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when I…said…_that…_to you?"

"When you said what, Livia?"

He was pretty sure he knew. He was pretty sure she was asking if he remembered when she'd said she loved him, how she'd practically begged him to come home with her, to get into bed with her. He was almost certain that she was asking if he remembered how embarrassed she'd been at his rejection. Almost. And he didn't want to be wrong.

"Never mind…Elliot…I…."

"What, honey?" He shook her gently, because her eyes closed and she sounded so groggy.

"I'm…sorry…"

"Don't be sorry, Olivia. No, you have nothing to apologize for."

"It hurts…"

"Where? Where, Olivia?"

"Everywhere…uuuunnnhhh…"

"Ssshhh, you'll be okay, you'll be okay. I'm here."

"I…I…wish…"

And then her head slumped sideways and her breaths slowed, and he knew she'd submerged into the depths of a deep sleep.

Elliot sighed, and brushed her damp hair gently back, out of her eyes.

With the words proclaiming her love for him still echoing around his brain, he buzzed the button, calling the nurse.

_I love you too, Liv._

A/N: Review please! Thanks for reading!

Thatlazybum: Decisions is _almost _ready. I've just got the couple concluding paragraphs to take care of. To give to you soon!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This is so haaaarrrrrd!

As he sat there, dry, tired eyes staring straight ahead, chin balanced heavily in his hands, elbows digging into his knees, Elliot was almost certain that he'd have permanent back pain from the position in which he currently resided. The hard, sterile hospital bedside chair was about two sizes too small, and the arms were constructed in such a way that whenever he tried to lean against them and rest, they dug painfully into his side.

But he wasn't leaving Olivia. That was absolutely out of the question.

The nurse had come in a few minutes after he'd pushed the button, followed by the doctor, in quick pursuit to his 'emergency call'. The pair had buzzed around Olivia's drowsy form, checking her concussion, inspecting and gently prodding at her cracked ribs. Submerged in the realms of unconsciousness, Olivia hadn't been able to make any protestations to the sleep medicine the nurse injected into her IV. Soon enough, Olivia's furrowed-even-in-sleep brow had relaxed into a serene expression. The doctor had informed him that the pain was expected, that everything seemed normal, okay. And Elliot wanted to punch the bastard. Things were sure as hell were _not _okay.

Elliot was so tired. So tired. But he refused to sleep. _Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep, don't fall…_ Part of it was that he wanted to be awake for Olivia in case she roused from her slumber. He wanted to be the first one to jump up to her aid and wrap her in a tight embrace, if she needed it. If she would let him.

The other part, however, was for a completely different reason. He felt guilty thinking about it, in the light of recent events. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Olivia, drunk and devastatingly beautiful, clinging to him with fervour. When he succumbed to the darkness of closed eyelids, he was met with the whispered remembrance of her lips, feather light against his neck, of her words, slurred and passionate.

"Come home with me…take me to bed…"

Elliot groaned inwardly. At that point, he was about ready to do anything he could to get the tantalizing images out of his mind. He had enjoyed it, that was certain, but thinking about it now filled him with a crimson shame so intense that his stomach became nauseous. Guilt ridden and horrified, Elliot was left with nothing to do but wait for her to wake up.

He saw himself, at the moment, as the biggest, stupidest, most incompetent, unintelligent partner in the whole of the United States. All he would have had to do was grab her arm, talk to her clearly, and walk her home. She had been, by far, the drunker of the pair, and in the heat of the moment, in the face of everything she'd relieved to him in her state of intoxication, he'd bolted. Out of nothing but pure, unadulterated fear. Fear. Fear of what had happened, fear of what hadn't happened yet.

_Coward. You stupid, stupid coward. _

He wouldn't even have needed to walk her in; helping her to her door would have been sufficient enough. Instead, he fled because he was scared. And he'd left her there, confused and sad and rejected and drunk, to fend off New York City's worst on her own.

Another part of his brain, a tiny, tiny part to which he rarely paid attention, told him that if he had, indeed, walked her home that night, his marriage, his career, and his reputation as a cop would have been severely damaged. That part of him told him that if he'd walked her home, there was no way in hell he'd have returned to his own apartment that night. Not the way Olivia had leant against him. Not the way her voice, sexy and low, was washing over his skin. Not when her scent was just as intoxicating as the drinks. Not when her lips were…not when her hips swayed so enticingly…not when he'd been lying to himself for _years _about how he felt, denying his love for so long had created so many pent-up emotions…

And then his mind was overtaken by horrible images, terrible, sick pictures of Olivia, lying in the alley right outside her building, broken and bleeding, crying…Elliot's heart sped as he was bathed anew in all those horrible things that you should never, ever have to see about the one you love…about anyone, for that matter. Despite the fact that he saw things like that every day on the job, something about the way Olivia's eyes reflected pure terror and pain had made him want to vomit everything he'd ever eaten. And then, there was the fact that it was Olivia, his partner, his other half, his best friend in the entire world that was lying there, withered and exhausted and violated. Violated. Olivia. Raped. Beaten. Left to die. He resisted the urge to sob.

"No…n…"

Something hard jerked underneath Elliot's head. His head sprung up too quickly, and he closed his eyes against the harsh spinning. He realized, regretfully, that surrounded by his thoughts, he'd succumbed to his fatigue. His head had been resting gently on Olivia's knee. He idly wondered how he'd ever gotten comfortable…half on the hard chair, half lying on the bed, half leaning on the floor. He was quickly set back on track as he noticed the room had become relatively dark. He held his breath, waiting to find out what it was that had woken him.

The silence had been tense and his heart was pounding painfully in his chest. Then, he heard it.

"P – please…n…no…"

Olivia.

Wiping a hand harshly over his face, he dragged his chair forward and sat close to her. He took one of her hands in his own sweaty palm, and brushed the other across her forehead.

"Liv?"

Although she thrashed slightly, no other sound came from her mouth. Apart from her laboured breathing, she was silent.

"Olivia?"

"Unnhh…" Her words were slurred, hazy in her sleep. She tossed her head from side to side.

"Shhhh, Liv, it's okay."

"Elliot…Elliot…h-help…come…please come back…"

Although her words were very slurred with her unconsciousness, he made out her phrase just fine. It was a splash of cold water down his back, and again the guilt overwhelmed him, almost drowning him. And then he kicked himself for making this about himself again.

"Liv, Liv, I'm here. I'm right here, honey. You're fine, wake up, you're okay now…" He brushed at the damp hair on her forehead, and lightly thumbed the soft skin of her hand. "Olivia, open your eyes. It's over, it's over now."

Elliot continued soothing her, talking to her in calming words, urging her to wake up.

After a few more moments of heavy panting, her breathing slowed and became more normal. She stopped thrashing her head, and with a soft sound from deep in her throat, she drifted once more into a hazy sleep.

Later, as he watched her sleep in the moonlight, Elliot's eyes were flooded with the inevitable tears. His shoulders shook from the force of the sobs he was desperately trying to reign in. The salty liquid rolled in graceful torrents down his cheeks, and when gravity won the battle, they fell wetly, and landed on Olivia's soft fingertips.

**A/N:** Okay, okay. I know that was insanely boring. BUT, I'm already finished with the next chapter, which will be considerably more 'exciting' and definitely longer. I just really suck at 'filler' chapters. I didn't want it to get too long, so instead of making one hugely long one; I broke it into two chapters. However, I'm still pretty nervous about this whole story, so if you could please, please let me know your thoughts, it would be appreciated more than you could ever know. Hugs!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Next part…by the way, the song I listened to while writing this is called "Mr. King" by Nerina Pallot…if any of you will find it beneficial to listen to while reading, it kind of sets the mood. But if you'd rather just read, or don't like that kind of music, thats cool! Read on…!

She was almost thirteen years old when she broke the first ever promise she'd made to herself. She remembered the sadness, the regret that became her after she'd tucked her wallowed mother into bed, and opened the cupboard under the sink. She'd just meant to look, just wanted to stare, curious as to what comfort her mother found in the dozen or so half-empty bottles stashed there.

Her mother was only sad before and after drinking from these bottles, never during. During, Olivia could tell, her mother felt wonderful. And that night, after a verbal fight that ended with Serena pounding down the drinks, after Olivia had lugged her mother's limp form to the bed, she felt pretty damn sad. She figured if her mother found such amazing comfort in these drinks, such release, Olivia could, too. Although she'd promised herself she'd never, ever touch the reason for her mother's rage, Olivia was overcome with the powerful urge to forget, even just for a while.

She'd taken a bottle filled with a strong smelling, clear liquid, and uncorked it with a soft pop. She'd only really meant to take a taste, but minutes later, she'd found herself confused and nauseous and crying, and she couldn't get a handle on her emotions. And then she sobbed some more, because the bottle was empty.

She'd broken her first ever promise with herself, and it wasn't worth a damn.

She'd promised herself she'd never be like her mother, and yet she'd sought comfort in the bottle.

She'd never, ever thought that she'd be anything like Serena, and yet, here she was, fragilely taped back together, barely holding on. It filled her with a great sense of sadness, of emptiness and yet, in that moment, all she wanted was her mother.

Lying in the white sheets of the hospital bed, Olivia cried. She cried silently in the dark of the night, yearning for the arms of the only person who could truly understand her feelings. She cried bitterly because her mother was dead, her mother was never going to hold her in her arms again. The one Olivia swore she hated, yet loved with all her heart, was buried in the cold ground. Olivia cried for herself, too. She wept at the memories that bombarded her mind, the rough, angry voice in her ear as sharp teeth grazed her ear. The memory of harsh, bruising hands holding her protesting hips to the cold ground, the pounding through her head and she fought for lucidity. Even her voice, her last defence, was too little to protect her.

She had been thrown to the ground, smacking her head with a sharp snap against the cold concrete. She'd tried to wiggle away, bloodying her fingertips as she clawed at the ground around her, but her efforts had been futile. He was on top of her and he was too heavy for her body to manage.

She cried because she was Olivia Benson, fearless and independent, tender and broken, and this was never supposed to happen.

She closed her eyes again with a shiver, and made a small sound in the back of her throat. If only she didn't need to wake up. Things would be so much easier, so much more agreeable if she could just spend the rest of her existence sleeping, away from reality, peaceful in the pretty comfort of dying. She tried to swallow the thick lump in her throat, but it seemed like once it was forced down, it sprang up again. She supposed it had something to do with all the crying she'd been suppressing, all the emotions that she had forced down.

Looking to her right, she saw Elliot, breathing evenly, his hand twined with hers, his forehead resting gently on her knuckles as he slept.

She cried because she loved him so much, and she thought that they'd probably have been happy had she not gone and let herself be raped.

**Elliot **woke from a fitful sleep a good twenty minutes later, a crick in his neck and a muscle cramp in his back. He lifted his head from their joined hands, and blinked sleepily in the darkness. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Olivia, inclined at an angle in the bed, her tear marks glistening in the pale moonlight from the window. She wasn't looking at him, she was staring out the window, eyes fixed on the sky. Her chest rose up and down unevenly with her efforts to keep her crying silent and hidden. Despite her tries, her sniffles could still be heard.

"Olivia," he murmured, squeezing her hand.

She turned her head toward him, eyes locking on his, big and sad. "Sorry to wake you," she said softly, sniffling.

"You didn't," he assured her, because it was the only thing he could think of to say to her. He was amazed that he'd found ways to comfort other victims, found ways to make them feel safe, and with Olivia, he was at a blank. He realized that it was because while he was used to sad faces that he didn't know, he was not at all used to seeing the face of someone he loved in that position. It was completely out of his element.

"I was just…thinking, El," she murmured quietly, looking at their hands. "I'm sorry,"

"For what?"

"If I'd just…I don't know…If I'd just…known how to handle myself, this wouldn't have happened. I'm sorry I ruined everything,"

"Liv," He stated disapprovingly, "Olivia, look at me." He waited until she'd turned her head to continue. "This isn't your fault, OK? You know that. You understand that."

She continued observing the irritated skin of her hands. She sniffled twice.

"Olivia," He took her chin in his hand, and forced her to make eye contact. "There was nothing you could have done differently, honey. You gave it your damndest, and I am _so _proud of you for that."

"It didn't make any difference," She argued, eyes downcast, voice scratchy. She was acting exactly as he had predicted. She was drowning herself in her own insults and reprimands.

"Olivia -,"

"No, El. Please, don't try to make me feel better right now. I just…I just…need to feel upset about this. I need time to be hurt and upset and I need to…get my head around it, okay?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and it made a weird gulping noise. "Yeah," his voice was hoarse, he needed a drink, "Okay, Liv."

Olivia was silent several more minutes, and Elliot gave her the space she'd needed. Suddenly, she looked up at him, her eyes piercing through him.

"I was almost home, you know."

So this was it, he thought. Elliot took a deep breath, and steeled himself for what he knew would be the worst moment of his life. Or, second worst, after seeing her in that alley.

"Yeah, hon, I know." He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

"I didn't see him, I was focused on the door, I -," Her voice rose higher and higher with each word.

"Shhhh, Liv. No one is blaming you." He spoke as gently as he could. "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

Olivia took a deep, shaky breath in, and didn't answer.

"Liv?"

"I – I…yes. Yes, I think I need to do this."

"Okay. I'm right here."

"Elliot?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you…you know…maybe just…hold me?"

"Absolutely."

Elliot rose from his seat, ignoring the pain in his back. He approached her with caution, calmly, so as not to alarm her or startle her. He made sure to keep his hands where she could see them.

Elliot gently put his arm around her shoulders as he helped her scoot forward on the bed, and then sat down behind her. He stretched his legs out on either side of her, and carefully, she leaned back against him.

"Okay?" He asked, brushing his hand over her hair.

"Yeah," she reassured him, smiling a sad smile.

He could feel her tenseness, the straight, rigid pose of her shoulders, the clenching of her legs, and he knew that she, too, was preparing herself for what was to come. She stayed that way for seven minutes, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, her tears not wild, but not controlled, either.

"Elliot, I can't believe this happened."

"No one could ever expect it, Liv." He rubbed his palm in soft circles on her back, while his other arm was wrapped securely around her.

"I…I…Um, I was fumbling with the lock…I couldn't get the key in because…I was so sleepy…"

"Mmm hmm," Elliot acknowledged her words, encouraging her to continue.

"And then, suddenly, I was…I was falling down the stairs. He was pulling me by my hair and I just couldn't get away…I was too busy fighting to stay on my own slow feet…I should've fought harder…" She sniffled, and grabbed onto his hand, twining their fingers tightly together. "Then I was in the trash alley, and I still didn't know what was going on but I knew it wasn't good because my knee hurt a lot, and so did my head, and I was staring at the sky…I was lying on my back. El, I just remember being so…cold…I remember wishing I'd followed you, or that we'd stayed at the bar longer…I wasn't thinking clearly…I remember being so confused…" She stopped speaking abruptly, drawing in a quick breath and squeezing her eyes shut. Elliot gently rested his chin on her shoulder, his face against the crook of her neck, and he whispered words of reassurance into her ear, all the while caressing her hand with his thumb.

She paused, needing a break, and Elliot just held her, giving her the time.

Several minutes later, she spoke. "God, he was so heavy."

Elliot gave her an encouraging squeeze with his arm that was wrapped around her middle.

"I couldn't catch my breath…He sat on my chest and…just crushing me…" She pulled in a shaky breath and leaned back against him. "He um… he h-hit me. Three times, I think. B-but I was already so weak – I – I don't understand why he had to…" She was crying freely now, and her words broke, interrupted with the sounds of sorrow emanating from her throat. She hunched over into herself, curving her back and crying into his knees. His one arm stayed tightly around her stomach, while with the other he massaged her back reassuringly.

"It's okay, Liv. It's alright, honey, breathe,"

"H-h-he c-called me h-his bitch…s-s-said that I w-was his…and that h-h-he'd never let me b-be shared…" she hiccupped.

Elliot closed his eyes at the onslaught of tears that stung at his eyelids. If Elliot ever found that son of a bitch, if he ever got his hands on him, he swore he'd rip him limp from limb. Slowly, so the bastard would really feel it. He wrapped his other arm around Olivia, and buried his face against her back, telling her all the things she needed to hear. He told her how proud he was that she'd survived, that she was coping, and he told her that she was safe.

"El…he didn't even…bother to undo the button on my j-jeans…he j-j-just ripped them off m-me."

Elliot was amazed that she was doing this. He cried as if he could feel everything that she was feeling. He would have traded anything to be going through all the pain in her place. If he could just find a way to really help her…

"And t-then my shirt was g-gone…I was s-s-s-so cold…" She began rocking back and forth. "He touched me…prodded at me, hit me, pinched me…" She cried openly, and he reached to the bedside and grabbed a clump of tissue. She gratefully accepted.

"And then…he…smiled, like he was enjoying himself…and he k-k-kissed me as he…you know…Oh, _El!_" She shrieked.

Olivia was at a roadblock, her eyes closed, shut tight, and she was literally quivering in his arms. She was crying rather noisily, and he hastily pulled her to him. Olivia turned to face him (or turned as much as she could in their current position) and she crushed her face into the crook of his neck. He didn't mind that he could feel her tears slipping down onto his skin, he didn't care that she was crying so hard she was probably drooling on him, either. He rhythmically rubbed her back in slow, steady circles.

"Shhhh, alright Liv, you're safe. You're safe. It's okay. It's alright, honey, try to relax…"

It took her a good amount of time to calm down, but Elliot could tell that she wasn't really up for talking anymore. However, if there was any chance of catching the guy who did this to her, he would have to act quickly. There may not be any physical evidence left over from her hasty shower, but there was always to possibility that something he had done would give him away. He was already thinking of the possibilities. He could look for patterns with other victims, he could search gangs and symbols or words, and there was still the crime scene….

But right now, Olivia, the trembling, crying mass in his arms was his number one priority.

"Livia?"

She didn't answer, but squeezed his hand. He took is as recognition.

"Did…umm…" he cleared his throat. "Did he say something, or do something to you in particular that seemed…strange?"

She looked up, confused. "What…?"

"When he was…raping you…did he say something, or maybe do something physically, that seemed…peculiar, for what the situation was?"

Olivia's dark eyes connected to his immediately.

And he spotted it right away.

He spotted her instant nervousness, her hesitance, and he knew, he _knew, _that there was something she was holding back. She hadn't even finished telling her story yet, but he was one hundred percent sure that there was something there that she wouldn't have told him anyway.

"Olivia?" He prodded gently, cupping her face in his hand. She pulled away, and curled in on herself.

"You know El…I think I'm done talking for now…" She brought her knees to her chest and rocked slowly back and forth.

"Liv?" He frowned in confusion.

"Please, I just want to sleep…"

Elliot wanted desperately to know what she was hiding, what it was that she was avoiding, but he also respected her, loved her, so he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Yeah, here, let me help you lie down."

"T-thanks…" She whispered, as he slipped from behind her and gently lowered her with two hands to her shoulders. Her big eyes were sad, and she looked not at him, but at the vast expanse of white wall that was in front of her. She kept her eyes glued there, in a trance, until she slowly fell asleep.

That night, Elliot didn't fall asleep for hours.

A/N: Please let me know what you thought! I can't help but be kinda insecure about this chapter guys, and nothing makes me feel more comforted than your comments. Honestly, they help me gain so much confidence in my writing! Thank to everyone who reads and everyone who reviews for your support! –cheers-


	9. Chapter 9

Alright! Wow, I was really happy with everyone's reviews. Really, you have no idea. I've found this story particularly hard to write, and nothing makes me more relieved to know that people are enjoying it. Speaking of which, I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to Nanite, who so wonderfully left me a review that took up like, almost all the characters! Thank you! Also to 7starfish7, Stabson, elandliv12123, and Eoforevertogether, for reviewing continuously, and the lovely edge15684, whom I recognize from reviews on my other stories. Sorry if I missed anyone, know that I do appreciate you! Also, thanks to the readers and the reviewers who reviewed even just once. You keep me going! You're amazing. Seriously. On with the show!

**Elliot **didn't want to push her, he didn't want to force information from her that she wasn't mentally prepared to provide, yet there was the detective in him that continuously reminded him that, while she was here, her perpetrator could be half way around the world by now. If there was indeed something she was holding back, something that she was too ashamed to tell, he needed to know. He needed to know what it was, so that he could look for patterns with other attacks, or put pieces together and do what he did everyday.

Above all, though, Elliot was her friend. Her best friend in the entire world, and he loved her. He loved her, and the torment he felt at watching her drown was so intense that he couldn't bring himself to hurt her more, to act upon his urges like he would if it were a stranger lying in that bed.

So, he'd hint at it, he'd press a little, but he wouldn't force her to tell. Not yet, anyway.

When he'd called Cragen a few days back, the morning after Olivia's attack, his captain had put them both on mandatory leave, and had strictly told Elliot that he didn't want to see his face in the precinct for at least two weeks. He wanted Elliot to take care of his partner. He'd told Elliot that he'd drop in, though, to see how she was doing. A few hours ago, the nurse had told Elliot that a man by the name of 'Nate had called, and asked to relay the information that he was going to stop by in the afternoon. Elliot had bit the inside of his cheek, not sure if, after a hard night, Olivia would be up for it.

He watched her, her dark hair a striking contrast to the sterile white of the pillow. She slept lightly, and he could tell she'd wake unrested, but he'd let her sleep as long as her subconscious wasn't plagued by nightmares. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, small breaths, due to the cracked ribs. Elliot reached out and took hold of her hand lightly, and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. He noticed that the skin there was particularly soft and delicate. It was one of the only placed along her upper torso that wasn't marred by bruises.

He was startled out of his haze when he heard a soft knocking on the open door. He turned quickly in his seat and stood immediately when his gaze was met by that of Olivia's ex boyfriend, Nate Tuckerson, and behind him, Fin.

"Nate," Elliot said, gruffly, rubbing a hand over his face and walking toward Nate. Elliot tried to quench the anger he felt that Olivia's ex boyfriend was standing in the hospital room. What right did he have?

"Elliot," he replied, just a solemnly. "God, it really happened, didn't it?"

Elliot's throat was too tight for speech, so he simply nodded. He was yearning for someone to talk to, but breaking in front of his partner's ex would be inexcusable. Nate walked into the room, while Fin stayed sombrely by the door, in the corner.

"How is she?"

"Uh…" Elliot cleared his throat, "She's…not too good."

"Yeah," the ex-boyfriend nodded, keeping his gaze trained on the sleeping detective.

Nate placed a gentle hand on Elliot's shoulder. "And you, Elliot, how're you holding up?"

Elliot had always deflected sadness with anger; it was a reflex. The fact that it was Olivia's ex trying to console him made him even more angered. This man had no idea of the immeasurable pain Elliot was suffering.

"How should I be doing? She's my partner…" he snapped, shrugging off Nate's hand. And then softer: "She's my partner…" He was mortified when tears stung his eyes, but he couldn't seem to hold them back. The act of utmost cruelty had been committed against his partner, his Olivia, and he felt so much hurt for her, there was so much emotion bottled up inside him.

"Elliot," Nate said softly, in an attempt to console his detective. "It's okay to be upset."

"I know that," Elliot said harshly, swiping at a tear, looking at his feet. "God." He choked, then hardened in anger…why was Olivia's ex here anyway?

"Elliot," Nate said again, and although he put lots of effort into comforting the hurting man before him, he refrained from touching him again, respecting the boundaries Elliot had set in place. "You'll get through."

"Will we?"

"I'm sure of it." Nate extended the flowers he had been holding in his hand. Elliot didn't make any move to accept them, his suspicion rising. Olivia hadn't talked about this guy in at least a month.

Elliot let out a strangled sob and nodded, wiping his eyes and looking at his partner again. He started when he saw Olivia's eyelids move, she scrunched her eyes once, twice, looking like she was about to wake up. She inhaled sharply, and her whole body tensed before her eyes opened with a jolt. She blinked and looked around the room with a dazed expression, and then her gaze settled on Elliot.

"El?" her voice was scratchy with sleep.

"Yeah, Liv, I'm here," he said, and quickly made his way to her bedside, repositioning himself on the edge of her bed.

"Hi, Olivia," Nate began, alerting her of his presence. She didn't seem to have noticed that she and Elliot weren't alone in the hospital room.

Olivia's head snapped up at the sound of her ex-boyfriend's voice, and immediately her eyes widened. Her hands shook with fear, and her bottom lip quivered. Elliot had never seen her look so scared. "N-Nate?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah, Liv, you doing okay today?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle, but also nervous.

Instead of acknowledging her captain's presence and his words, Olivia narrowed her eyes at Elliot, her hand gripping his tightly. "Why is _he _here?" her voice shook, and she was breaking out in a sweat.

"He just wanted to see -,"

"Well, I want him to leave," she snapped, surprising everyone in the room with her unexpected mood change. She turned away from her visitors and tucked her chin to her shoulder.

"Liv, it's okay -,"

"No, it isn't. Get them out!"

"Shhhh, Olivia,"

"NO!" She yelled, wrenching her hand from Elliot's stunned grasp, and scooting quickly to the other side of the bed and landing on her feet on the floor, cringing at the pain in her body. "Now, Elliot!"

Elliot rose out of his seat and walked slowly around the foot of her hospital bed, holding his hands out in front of him, cautiously approaching her shaking form. "Olivia, try to relax, honey -,"

She backed away, gasping in surprise when her back hit the wall, and she gripped it for support. A torrent of tears slipped down her face, rolling off her chin and onto the front of her hospital gown.

"Olivia," Elliot began, but he was bluntly cut off with one of Olivia's sobs.

"Leave! Leave!" She shrieked, gesturing wildly at Nate and Fin, her face red with exertion and tears. "Get out!" Her voice was so loud it was becoming hoarse. "Get out! Get out! Get _out_!"

Nate snapped out of his stunned state and took a step back, towards the door, his eyes wide in shock. He turned to see that Fin was looking extremely uncomfortable and was already half way out of the room.

"Okay Olivia," Nate said, softly. "Okay, I'll see you later." He tried to be reassuring with his words, but was quickly shut down when Olivia screeched that she 'never wanted to see them again, and why had he done this to her?' Nate shot Elliot a worried look, one that Elliot promptly returned but, with a gesture of his arm, assured the captain that he could take care of it. Fin and Nate closed the hospital room door behind them.

"Olivia -," Elliot started, walking towards her.

"Get away!" she shrieked, "Don't touch me!" She turned to face the wall, and smacked against it, almost as if she had forgotten it was there and was trying to run away. "Ugh!"

"Okay, I won't hurt you, honey, it's me, it's Elliot."

"Don't come any closer," she warned, her voice thick with tears.

"I won't honey, I promise," he assured her, taking a hesitant seat on the side of her bed, a few feet away from her, making sure to keep his hands in front of him. "I'm just going to sit right here."

Olivia continued to feel around the walls, shuffling around the room blindly searching for a way out. Elliot wanted nothing more than to go to her, to help her, but he was terrified of what may happen if he went closer to her.

It was when he saw the trickle of blood running down the inside of her thigh that he threw caution to the wind and got up from his spot. "Olivia?" he asked, knowing her stitches had ripped. "Liv? You're bleeding; let me call the nurse, okay? Let me help you."

"No, I don't need help, I don't need you," she protested, and continues to blindly (because of her tears) feel around the walls and other contraptions in the room.

"I'm sorry, Liv, but your stitches have ripped and I can't just let that go," he answered, trying the 'firm' approach, knowing that that was what worked with some victims.

Olivia stopped pacing, and through her tears, widened her eyes at him. "What?"

"I said, I'm calling the nurse whether you want me to or not," he stated, walking towards the call button.

"No!" she shrieked, and rushed over to the button, clumsily tripping over herself and she pulled the cord out and hit the button behind her back. "No!"

She looked around frantically, looking like a doe caught in the headlights, trembling from head to foot. "Please, El! Please! I want…I want to be alone!" Her voice cracked on several occasions.

The trail of blood was now trickling down her calf, and she shifted at the uncomfortable position, still shaking, still crying. "El…God," she sobbed, and her knees gave out from under her, and she sunk down along the wall to the ground. "It's so horrible…it's so horrible!" she wailed, covering her face with her hands. Elliot went quickly to her, realizing that her fight was over, and that she'd accept him again. He was very upset at her distress, and even more upset at the fact that she had been afraid of him, that she'd thought he wanted to hurt her.

"Olivia…no one will ever touch you again, okay? It's safe, it's safe." He rocked her gently as they sat against the wall on the floor.

"No…no! You…you don't u-understand!" she cried out, digging her nails into his forearm.

"Okay, okay, relax honey, explain it to me, tell me," he insisted, knowing that once she got it out, she'd surely feel better.

"I c-can't…"

"Yes, you can. You're so brave, I'm so incredibly proud of you, Liv."

She exhaled, a shaky breath against his neck. "I'm so sorry…"

"For what? Liv, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I- I…"

"Shhhh. Take a deep breath." He helped her count three steady inhales and exhales. "Okay?"

"Th-thanks…El?"

"What is it?"

"I didn't tell you…"

Oh, boy, was she about to tell him what he though she'd been holding back?

"I – I" She exhaled shakily. "I know who…did this to me."

A/N: what did y'all think?


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